


Hold The Line

by wackyjacqs



Series: Bizarre Holidays [31]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s07e21-22 Lost City, Episode: s08e01-02 New Order, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wackyjacqs/pseuds/wackyjacqs
Summary: They say you should never go to bed angry – or upset. Something to do with how the bad feelings that you’re experiencing will just twist and turn and develop into bone-deep resentment, and yada, yada, yada…With hindsight, perhaps if Samantha had listened to the advice she’d be in a much healthier position right now, but she didn’t, so she isn’t.





	Hold The Line

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ‘Inane Answering Message Day’. Episode tag for season 8s ‘New Order’ and for the purposes of this story, Jack’s been in stasis for three months.

They say you should never go to bed angry – or upset. Something to do with how the bad feelings that you’re experiencing will just twist and turn and develop into bone-deep resentment, and yada, yada, yada…

With hindsight, perhaps if Samantha had listened to the advice she’d be in a much healthier position right now, but she didn’t, so she isn’t.

It’s too late for her, she thinks. She’s spent the past three months festering her anger and subsequent bitterness to the point where she’s about to snap.

Or, maybe she has already. Perhaps that’s why Fifth was so focused on engineering her a happy life with Pete, because he mistook her anger over the colonel’s situation for anger at the colonel himself, so he assumed he meant nothing to her.

_Did you really think that you could convince me that this illusion was my life? That I would just accept it?_

For a fleeting moment, she did think about it though; when she saw the dog running towards her and for just a second, she was expecting to see the colonel stroll around the corner and throw her an easy smile.

_If it was something you wanted badly enough in your mind._

And, yeah, if she’s honest, she does want it. But Fifth got it wrong. She doesn’t want that kind of life with Pete, and that is what set off the alarm bells in her head.

_Human emotions can be very overwhelming._

She snorts at how patronising that sounds, even to her own ears, and even if it is true.

She remembers the relief when she opened her eyes and saw Teal’c crouched nearby. The ease she felt, knowing that Fifth had released her, but she wasn’t fully convinced it was real until her eyes landed on _him_ , and the anger and despair that weighed down on her shoulders for months, disappeared in an instant.

Her skin still feels alight from where his fingers grazed her hip before settling on her thigh, and the low buzz of electricity that his touch sent through her entire body hasn’t diminished. That’s when she really knew that she was no longer a prisoner. The feelings that he stirred within her, you couldn’t replicate, no matter how hard you tried.

But seeing Jack and knowing that he is alive and home again doesn’t bring the relief or overwhelming happiness she expects. It just brings her more pain – a whole new level of torture.

It’s almost frightening how quickly they’ve been able to fall into a normal routine again – or as normal as it can be now that the colonel is a general and she’s the leader of SG-1.

Sam scoffs at the turn of events.

The then-colonel had retired – _again_ – when they were on Ronan's ship and – for once – Sam thought this was finally their time. She, Daniel and Teal’c would find a way to save his life and bring him home; his resignation would stick and then they could maybe – _maybe_ – give this thing between them a go. But instead Murphy’s Law had other ideas.

So, now, not only is he still her commanding officer, but he is the commanding officer of the _entire_ SGC. Talk about off-limits.

Only now it’s harder than before, because she’s had three months. Three months where she’s foolishly allowed herself to break down the barriers she had carefully erected when it came to Jack O’Neill. And now she has to build them back up again, stronger than before. It’s why she’s turned down his offer of a team night, in favor of sitting at home alone. She tries to ignore the hurt in his eyes before it was masked with confusion, and she absolutely refuses to dwell on the understanding and sympathetic – yet wildly irritating – look Daniel gave her when she made her excuses. She decides Teal’c’s reaction wasn’t far behind.

But she isn’t angry with them, she’s angry with herself for putting them in this position. Jack may not remember a thing, but Daniel and Teal’c? They saw her struggle to keep it together when he’d said goodbye. They saw her fall apart a few weeks later when the pain of missing him was just too much. They saw her push all of her emotions back into a very overcrowded room when he returned.

She knows the guys won’t necessarily say anything incriminating to the general, but she’s just not ready to deal with the fact that he’s here – and they’re even further apart than before.

Guilt forces its way to the surface. She knows she has worried her teammates because every waking moment she spent at the SGC was focused on trying anything and anyone to bring Jack home.

The only difference between this situation and the time he was stuck on Edora, was the fact that Sam actually went home most evenings.

At the beginning, Daniel assumed it was because she had Pete; that she now had somebody to go home to – something to take her mind off the job.

She knew it was wrong, but she never corrected him. She just decided to let Daniel think that way – even though she hadn’t actually seen or spoken to Pete in months. It was only six weeks after the colonel’s selfless act, when Daniel suggested a team night – and to extend the invitation to Pete – that she admitted he wasn’t around.

Sure, he’d called and tried to arrange another date but she just hadn’t been interested, so she kept putting it off. And she does feel bad; he’s a nice guy, but not the one for her.

Her little stint with Fifth finally helps her see that, she realizes.

She glances down at the cell phone clenched in her right hand and sighs. Daniel had later asked her what she did in the evenings if she wasn’t with Pete, but she never did give him an answer. How could she?

How could she tell him that she went home every night and found herself dialling Jack’s home number? How could she explain that while she knew he wouldn’t pick up, there was always a semblance of hope that he would?

That just for those few moments, right before she fell asleep, she heard his voice. It wasn’t much, just a gruff _“O’Neill. Go.”_ , as his answering machine picked up. Some nights, the succinct greeting made her smile; others, it was like a driving pain in her chest as she wondered if she would ever see him again. To think that she could never hear those crappy jokes again that she knew he only ever told for her benefit.

Sam knows it’s ridiculous, but the sound of his voice brought her the comfort and strength she needed to go back to work the next morning and continue with her efforts to bring him home.

But now he is home and she desperately wants to hear his voice again.

She flips open her cell and, without thinking, types out the number, but pauses just before she dials.

She can’t do this anymore. She shouldn’t have been doing it in the first place, but definitely not now. Not now that he’s home and head of the SGC and so far out of reach.

She sighs in frustration and runs a hand through her hair, but studies the phone and the way her thumb continues to hover over the dial button.

* * *

Jack throws his keys onto the sideboard in the hallway, not bothering to see where they actually land, and heads for the kitchen, so he doesn’t see the loaded look Daniel and Teal’c share as they follow him into his house. For someone who had escaped death once more, then been recalled to active duty _again_ , and then promoted, he’d been in a surprisingly good mood. Yet his joviality quickly vanished whenever he’d offered to host a team night – and Sam had declined.

He isn’t stupid; he’s aware of the fact that Sam’s been acting strangely around him for a couple of days now – ever since their reunion on Orilla – but there are still chunks of his memory missing, so he can’t remember if he’s said or done something before he went all Ancient that she’s still pissed at him for.

Vaguely aware of his teammates – _former_ teammates – he quickly corrects, moving around his kitchen, he wonders if he should ask them.

“Is everything OK with Carter?”

But if he’s looking for reassurance that she is fine, he doesn’t get it from the look on their faces.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

He gives Daniel a look and he shrugs. “Maybe she already had plans?”

“Carter?” Jack grins. “What kind of –” He stops abruptly and his humor disappears when one memory comes flying right back at him. “I take it the cop is still around.”

It isn’t exactly a question, but he busies himself by putting a few groceries away.

“Actually,” Daniel hesitates. “He isn’t.”

“Oh,” he manages. He lets his gaze slowly meet his friend’s – just in time to see him in another silent exchange with Teal’c.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” the archaeologist replies quickly, then scrunches his face up. “She’s... probably just tired, Jack.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c adds. “Colonel Carter worked most exhaustively in her attempts to bring you back home, O’Neill.”

He isn’t quite sure how to take that statement, but hearing Carter work herself into the ground doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done it to save his sorry ass.

“How was she when I was – you know – ” He waves a hand around in a vague gesture.

“She was Sam.”

Again, Jack isn’t sure how he feels about that assessment, but he catches the look in Daniel’s eye and the underlying meaning in his words.

He nods slightly as he glances around the kitchen and realizes just how weird it feels being back in his house even though, in his mind, he’s only been away from it for a few days.

Daniel’s voice cuts through his thoughts before he can start to dwell over recent events.

“We’re, ah, going to head back to the base, Jack, but if you need anything –”

“I thought we were having a team night,” he frowns.

“We were,” he nods. “But… are you really in the mood for company now?”

His jaw tightens. A part of him does want company; to just sit with his friends and not have to worry about anything for a few hours. But the situation feels new and a little unwelcome and he feels like it’d be better if he’s left alone for the rest of the evening.

He sees Daniel nod and smile in understanding. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

When he hears the front door close, Jack sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face. He’s starting to feel like he’s suffocating so he opens the windows and takes a deep breath as the cool, spring air reaches him. It takes a while until the panic lessens, and the itch under his skin feels like just a minor annoyance before he can finally move away from the window. He takes his time putting away the last few groceries when he spies the answering machine in the living room and its red light. It’s solid, not even flashing, and he sighs. He never gets messages and it doesn’t leave him with a good feeling.

He heads into the living room and hits the button on the machine before he turns back to the kitchen.

_Inbox full. You have 40 new messages._

He spins around and frowns at the machine.

“What the hell?”

Slowly, he walks towards it and waits.

 _First new message. Message left on April 26th, 2004, at 7.35pm_.

The message starts but it’s only silence coming over the speaker. His frown deepens when the it suddenly cuts off.

_Second new message. Message left on April 27th, 2004, at 7.35pm._

_Third new message. Message left –_

Jack slams a finger down to stop the machine. All of the messages are the same. Swivelling on his heel, he goes into the kitchen, grabs a beer from the refrigerator and returns to the living room before settling on the couch. He takes a long swig before he glances at the machine and hits the button.

The silence plays too loud, but something in Jack’s gut tells him to keep listening, so he does. It takes twenty-one messages before he hears it. The ragged breathing. The sniffle and soft crying over the phone, right before Sam whispers, “I’m sorry, Jack.”

The rest of the messages remain silent, but he feels something inside him start to uncoil.

He isn’t sure how long he stares at the machine but the sudden ringing of the phone shatters the quietness of the room and he jumps. He instinctively reaches out to lift it from the receiver but freezes when he catches a glimpse of the clock.

_7.35pm._

He considers letting the machine pick up, but for some reason he doesn’t, and his voice is soft when he answers. “O’Neill. Go.”

Her sharp intake of breath loosens the twist in his chest a little more and he lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding.

“Jack,” she breathes.

“Sam.”

“I –”

He knows he’s caught her off-guard and he smiles to himself. “So, you’re the one I’ve to thank for leaving all these messages on my machine?”

There’s no admonishment, no judgment, and he relaxes when he hears a slight huff of laughter travel along the line.

“How many?”

“Every day for the past three months.”

He turns his head to look at the machine. The sums don’t add up.

“The machine only holds forty messages. Any you don’t save or listen to within twenty days are erased,” she explains, as if she can read his mind.

“Ah.”

“I missed you,” she says quietly.

“I know.”

“Did Daniel tell you that?”

“Teal’c, actually.”

“Tattletale.”

He grins when he hears the amusement in her voice, and Daniel’s earlier words play over in his head, right before he’s slapped with a memory of him and Carter sitting on his couch – talking, but not. It takes him a few moments to catch up with the images and he speaks before he realizes. “Want me to come over?”

“I – I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Sir.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

There’s a heavy pause, and he thinks about rescinding the offer. “Look, Sam –”

“Yes,” she interrupts, leaving him momentarily in surprise.

“OK,” he nods. “Without any interruptions or donuts this time?”

He hears her soft laughter and smiles. “Sounds good… Jack.”


End file.
